Fevered Dreams
by Kelcor
Summary: Please don't expect too much from this story. I'm just testing out the fandom to see if I can do it justice! I adore the show and have great respect for the fans! Just a few missing scenes from 2x13 The Last Dragonlord. Please be kind. Hurt Arthur / Comforting Merlin Quick appearance by Balinor.


_A/N Just cutting my teeth in this fandom to see how I do. I have lots of ideas for episode tags, AU's, etc. But I'm always nervous starting in a new fandom and want to make sure I do it justice. Please R&R so I know whether to write and post something else? Oh, and I know absolutely nothing about Old English, except that it sounds pretty darn awesome! I used a website to translate a few words from modern English into Old English. As for its authenticity? I have no idea! My apologies if I've offended anyone. :-(_

_A/N I want to say, as well, that it has been a lifelong dream of mine to visit Great Britain. Until then, I will live vicariously through British television like Merlin and Sherlock! XD Doesn't hurt that the guys in each show are HOT, either! LoL *wink*_

Merlin watched as Cenred's men passed them by without incident, then whispered "Arthur. Arthur!" The heavy weight at his side told him that his friend was unconscious. Biting back a curse, Merlin wondered what he was going to do. He wasn't strong enough to carry Arthur over to the horses but he couldn't just leave him in the middle of Cenred's kingdom! For the Prince of Camelot to be found in such a vulnerable condition would mean certain death. _Think, Merlin! Think!_

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had seen a spell that might work in this situation. A transformation spell of sorts that would give him more physical strength for a short period of time. If only he could remember the correct incantation.

He whispered one incantation but was unsure if it was the correct one or not. Only one way to find out. Examining the situation, he knew putting Arthur over his shoulder would only exacerbate his wound, so he slipped his arms beneath knees and back and tried to lift him off the ground. He strained every muscle he had but to no avail. With a gasp, he whispered, "Okay, clearly not that one." He tried another version but received the same result. Finally, he said, "Onwæstm min cræft afol," and made one final attempt to scoop Arthur up and before he knew it, he was standing with his friend cradled against his chest. Smiling with pride, he carried his precious cargo the short distance and gently folded him over the back of his horse.

After finally finding his father, he was unceremoniously ordered to go 'fetch' his injured friend and to bring him back. Thankfully, the spell was still in effect because he was able to easily lift Arthur off the horse and return to the caves with him. Balinor looked at him with eyebrows raised into his hairline. "You are stronger than you look, boy."

"I keep trying to tell people that," Merlin muttered.

Merlin sat at Arthur's bedside, contemplating the conversation he'd just had with his father, seemingly the last Dragonlord. Should he have told him the truth about who he is? Maybe. But he just wasn't ready. Merlin had no idea what kind of reaction Balinor might have to the news. He still hadn't decided how _he _felt about it. Gaius had just told him the day before that his father was even alive, and now he was spending the night in the same cave, just a matter of several feet away from him? How was he supposed to process that? And, if he couldn't process it, how could he possibly expect Balinor – his _father _– to?

His musing were interrupted by a pained groan from Arthur. Attention now focused on his friend, Merlin grabbed a wet cloth from a nearby bowl of cool water and wrung it out. He pressed it to Arthur's brow, dragged it over his face and neck, attempting to cool the fever that still had not lessened since Balinor had applied the paste like substance to the wound and muttered the vaguely familiar words like a prayer or a spell – and given the circumstances, Merlin was more inclined to believe it was the latter. He took the cloth away to check Arthur's temperature with the backs of his fingers against the overheated cheek, and was humbled when his master turned his face towards him, seeking comfort and assurance.

Merlin offered up a half grin. "Clot pole," he muttered fondly.

Arthur seemed to fall into a somewhat peaceful sleep but Merlin kept watch, nonetheless. A groggy voice from behind him said, "He will be fine by morning. You should get some rest."

Smiling at the surrealism of having his father, essentially, tell him to go to bed, Merlin stretched himself out on the floor next to Arthur's bed, such as it was, and closed his eyes to go to sleep. Balinor grumbled at him again. "He is in a deep sleep and will not notice if you share his bed. You carried him here, you deserve a comfortable sleep, as well."

His father's words made sense but still Merlin hesitated. To share a bed with his master, no matter how innocent the reason, felt too presumptuous. And if Arthur woke before Merlin did, Merlin would never hear the end of it. "He won't wake before you do," Balinor told him, as if reading his mind.

Finally, Merlin kicked off his shoes and lied down next to Arthur, more than a little surprised when the prince turned towards his warmth. As he drifted off to sleep, Merlin felt Arthur's distress before he heard it and was fully awake once again before the first pained groan reached his ears. But it was more than a groan, it was a word. And that one word broke Merlin's heart for it told him the pain his friend was reliving in his fevered dreams – _'Mother'. _But it was the sound of tears in his master's voice, and soon after the sight of them rolling down the inflamed cheeks that truly made the decision for the young sorcerer.

Putting aside his own pride, Merlin gently but firmly pulled his friend against him to offer what little comfort he could. Comfort that would never have been accepted were the prideful prince awake, and was barely tolerated even now in his fevered state. Deep-seated instincts had him weakly pushing against Merlin's chest, even though Merlin was certain Arthur was still fully asleep. Which meant his friend was fighting against any show of vulnerability even in his dreams. In Arthur's weakened condition, Merlin was easily able to overpower him, even though he was pretty sure the strength incantation had already worn off.

But, to be honest, Merlin understood his friend's need for he didn't enjoy showing weakness, either, and he was just a servant. Arthur was the Crown Prince of Camelot. The son of Uther Pendragon. He had to show strength at all times, otherwise become a target of every enemy of Camelot in general, and Uther Pendragon in particular.

The prince could never show anything but fortitude in front of his enemies. But Merlin was not an enemy and Arthur was reliving what was most likely the most painful moments in his life – when he discovered the true circumstances behind his mother's death… well, from the perspective of Morgause and Nimueh, at least. But, even though Merlin had at first secretly chastised the king for his hypocritical views on magic, he had soon made the connection with his own experience with Nimueh, when he'd tried to sacrifice his own life for Arthur's and she had attempted to take the life of his mother, instead. Then Gaius had tried to trade his life for Hunith's, beating Merlin to the punch and Nimueh was only too happy to take the life of the court physician who had stood behind Uther in his war against magic. She hadn't succeeded, however… Merlin couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get used to using his magic to take the life of another. Although, he didn't regret saving Gaius' life, Nimueh's death still weighed on Merlin to this day. But, in the end, Arthur had survived, Gaius had survived, and Hunith had survived. All in all, it had been a pretty good day.

With that thought in mind, and with Arthur curled up securely in his arms, Merlin closed his eyes and had the best sleep he'd had in a very long time.


End file.
